Long goodbye

It is always hard to say goodbye to old friends and this goodbye was harder than most, with Alex Salmond conducting his last appearance in the chamber as First Minister.

Unless he runs again in future, that is, in which case it will not be. 

Everyone reacts to these situations differently. Some, like Jackie Baillie, use jokes to mask the pain. Others, like Willie Rennie, turn to denial.

In fact, Rennie – apparently driven mad by grief at the thought of Salmond leaving – used his moment in Salmond’s last FMQs to get confirmation that the FM is definitely going.

Speaking directly to the Lib Dem leader – who just looked pleased that no one was shouting at him for a change – Salmond opened his resignation statement: “I have given his suggestion great thought, but have decided to resign anyway at the start of the parliamentary business tomorrow.

“This notice should allow Mr Rennie ample time to secure his nominations to have a tilt at the job. I assure him that, if he so decides, I will weigh up his candidacy with great care – before casting my vote for my friend and colleague, Nicola Sturgeon.”

Poor Willie Rennie. 

Attempting to strike a sombre tone, Salmond praised the Parliament’s evolution: “We have become the chief hub of national discourse and debate; the fulcrum of Scottish public life; the chamber that people expect to reflect their priorities, values and hopes.”

He then continued: “This Parliament’s procedures are not perfect. How on earth could they be? We are not 15 years old, but 15 years young.”

Salmond obviously aimed to be magnanimous, but like most 15 year olds, Parliament was not planning on behaving itself.

Baillie, for example, chose the moment to reveal that for the past few years, the Scottish Parliament has been hosting its own underground Fight Club.

"It was becoming genuinely awkward. Like watching the world’s most passive aggressive best man’s speech"

Apparently boasting of her prowess in combat, she said: “He and I have sparred, disagreed, fallen out and fought across the floor of the chamber, and I have particularly enjoyed our personal jousts at First Minister’s question time.”

Weirdly, Tricia Marwick did not look too surprised by the news. Presumably she referees.

But Baillie continued, wiping away any residual hopes that she was going to use the occasion to pay wholesome tribute to a man who had been FM for almost half of the Parliament’s existence.

With a sinister grin, she said: “The First Minister knows that I always like to be helpful, and I think that I know where the Yes campaign went wrong. After the First Minister’s comment that, single-handedly, he would have prevented the crash of RBS, thereby saving the entire world from an international banking crisis, surely the answer is clear to the SNP and to everybody in the chamber: if only the First Minister had been running the Yes campaign.”

There was some praise, admittedly. For example, at one point she described the referendum as “invigorating”, though her face suggested that she meant invigorating in the way an ice bath is invigorating. 

By this point, it was becoming genuinely awkward. It was like watching the world’s most passive aggressive best man’s speech. Or This is Your Life if it was presented by a Komodo dragon. 

She said: “The First Minister’s considerable abilities will be missed. Given his track record, we know that he might just emulate Arnold Schwarzenegger and proclaim that he will be back.”

No one doubts the obvious parallels between Salmond and Schwarzenegger, but most observers would have been surprised to hear Schwarzenegger had ever been FM of Scotland, let alone served and then returned to the post. 

Ruth Davidson was up next, seemingly intent on winning some sort of secret bet among the opposition to cram as much imagery into her speech as possible.

And with Davidson, the tone turned from Baillie’s attempt at awkward comedy to a more surreal experience. In the space of thirty seconds, the leader of the Scottish Tories described Salmond as “the archetypal Teflon don”, “a political Lazarus” and “an earworm”. 

It was not clear if these descriptions are mutually exclusive, or if Davidson meant that Salmond is an immortal earworm in charge of a mafia. Either way, it was pretty odd.

Willie Rennie then followed, announcing with obvious delight that “with the First Minister’s resignation a mantle passes from him to me. I am now the longest-serving party leader – not by long, but I will take any prizes these days.”

Poor Willie Rennie. 

He said: “As the new veteran leader, I offer some advice to the departing First Minister – we all need to take care of our health.”

Not exactly sage-like wisdom, but at least you could see what he was trying to achieve – repeat it often enough and it will stick. But unfortunately for Rennie, Parliament only has one elder statesman. Enter Stewart Stevenson.

After apparently spinning a wheel inside his head in order to decide what to come out with, Stevenson seemed to have decided that the FM is dying, and made the decision to treat the occasion like a eulogy and paid tribute to the FM’s life. 

Actually, it was fairly standard stuff from Stevenson, delivering a five-minute narrative in which he swerved from referring to the FM as a ‘black bitch’, to boasting that he used to be his driver, before comparing the FM to John F Kennedy.

Finally, Salmond was given one last chance to reply to their statements.

Correcting part of Baillie’s speech in which she had claimed he walked out of the party at conference, he said: “I did not walk out – I was flung out. I offer her this in case she is ever in such a position: never go willingly – wait to be expelled, Jackie.”

Never go willingly. Fortunately for the opposition, Salmond does not seem to have heeded his own advice.